Chocolate and Cream and Bossy Boots
by LavenderBrown
Summary: A one-shot. Ron and Hermione get stuck in the pantry. You can guess the rest. A little HG on the side. Rated R for sex and language.


I'm baaaaack. This a one-shot story I wrote on a whim. Ron, Hermione, chocolate, whipped cream, and a locked pantry. Naughtiness ensues. A little Harry and Ginny on the side.  
  
Rated R for language and sex.  
  
Chocolate and Cream and Bossy Boots  
  
Ron Weasley lay wide awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His attempts at sleep had thus far failed miserably. He was, to put it mildly, in a foul mood.  
  
It had all started that morning, when he'd rowed with his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, over something so inconsequential that he couldn't even remember why they'd rowed in the first place. That was how it always was with them. In the seven years Ron had known Hermione, and in the nearly year and a half they'd been dating, they generally rowed over silly things, and they rowed fiercely. Their fights were so commonplace as to have become infamous among their fellow Gryffindors. Many of their friends were convinced that once they had started dating, their fights would only get worse.  
  
In fact, Ron and Hermione had surprised everyone, including themselves. They still fought, but not nearly so often; it turned out that half the reason they fought so much prior to getting together was because they were both crazy about one another but couldn't get around to admitting it. Once that hurdle was jumped over, things settled down a bit for them, and their daily spats dwindled to perhaps one a week, at most. And even more importantly, they found that their once blazing manner of fighting had become significantly calmer; they didn't yell so much, and they made up faster.  
  
But not today. Ron had been nervous about the Quidditch match. It was his very last match as Keeper for his team. They were in a race for the Quidditch Cup with their fiercest rivals, the Slytherins. N.E.W.Ts were a few weeks away and when Ron wasn't busy with Quidditch practices, he was burying himself in his studies. Hermione, a star student and one who approached all exams with a kind of religious fervor, was spending all her spare time studying, when she wasn't busy with Head Girl duties.  
  
As a result of their busy schedules, Ron and Hermione had not been able to be alone together for several weeks. Ron couldn't remember being so sexually frustrated in all his life. It was ridiculous that he had a girlfriend and yet he couldn't seem to find the time to get laid.  
  
He scowled. Of course, it wasn't entirely Hermione's fault. This week they'd had two opportunities to shag, but it was Ron who'd called a stop to things. He had a rule about not shagging in the last few days leading up to a Quidditch match. As Keeper for the team Ron's skills on his broom were important enough, but he needed all his mental focus to do well. Sex with Hermione had a way of fogging up his brain and messing with his concentration.  
  
Except that normally, when Ron engaged in self-imposed celibacy right before a match, he'd not gone without sex for several weeks at a stretch. Coming into the week before the match, Ron checked his calendar and saw that he and Hermione had not had sex for almost four weeks--a MONTH. No wonder he was cranky all the time.  
  
So when Hermione made the offhand comment this morning that winning the Quidditch Cup wasn't EVERYTHING, Ron went off. He yelled at her and accused her of belittling the thing that was most important to him. Hermione countered that she thought that SHE was the most important thing to him, and Ron, in a fit of rage, had said "Not today, you're not, you damn Bossy Boots!"  
  
And it had descended from there. In short, the fight was basically his fault. This knowledge only served to make Ron more disgruntled. And he realized that while sex with his girlfriend just before a match could mess up his concentration, rowing with his girlfriend just before a match wasn't any good, either.  
  
The entire match, he played poorly. He played so poorly that the Slytherins began to sing their rousing, and insulting, version of "Weasley is Our King." It was Harry and the Chasers (including Ron's little sister Ginny) who'd saved the game for Gryffindor.  
  
After the game the Gryffindors went back to the common room to celebrate, only Ron did not feel like celebrating. He was just too pissed off. And he didn't even have his girlfriend to offer him Comfort Sex for playing so badly. He'd seen Hermione at the party and she'd pointedly ignored him before shooting him a dirty look and stomping off to her private Head Girl rooms.  
  
Now it was nearly midnight, and Ron was exhausted but sleep wouldn't come. He knew he had to apologize to Hermione. He'd been awful and unfair to her and he wondered if perhaps he'd actually destroyed their relationship once and for all.  
  
Hermione drove him mad sometimes. She was fussy and bossy and rigid--even more so since becoming Head Girl. She nagged him constantly about his studies. She didn't take his love for Quidditch seriously. She read too many damn books. She sucked up to the teachers (well, all except Snape). She was always throwing extra work at the prefects and wanting them to take on more responsibility. She was obsessive about exams. She over-analyzed every situation she was in. She always wanted to TALK about things when sometimes Ron just wanted to dwell in a cone of silence. She was always THINKING about things when sometimes Ron thought it was better just to feel, to go with one's gut instinct.  
  
She was also his best mate. His soul mate. She was warm and loving and loyal. She was brilliant and brave and always helping others when they had trouble with their homework. Ron wouldn't have scraped the decent grades he'd gotten without Hermione's constant assistance. She was tough and resilient and always ready to fight injustice wherever she saw it. She was clever and knew every spell in existence and endured her daily taunts from Slytherins--who were still calling her a Mudblood--with dignity and grace. She was beautiful and had all that wild bushy hair and those gorgeous brown eyes that made him melt when she looked at him, and a mouth that tasted like chocolate and skin that smelled like lilacs and felt like silk. He was completely, utterly in love with her.  
  
"Shit," he whispered into the darkness. His stomach growled. On top of his misery he was hungry again.  
  
There was no help for it. He simply couldn't sleep. Perhaps a midnight snack would cheer him up a bit. He threw off his covers and rolled out of his bed. He pulled on a robe over his pyjamas, picked up his wand and crept silently over to Harry's desk. Harry was conked out--Ron could hear the soft snoring coming from behind the closed curtains of Harry's four-poster. He wouldn't mind if Ron borrowed the Marauder's Map.  
  
Ron took the Marauder's Map from the drawer in Harry's desk and crept out of the dormitory. Part of him wanted to go to Hermione's room so that he could apologize profusely to her, on bended knee if necessary. But knowing her, she would only get irritated with him for waking her. An apology would have to wait until the morning.  
  
His stomach growled again as he quietly clambered out the portrait hole and into the corridor. He checked the map; Filch was in his office, along with Mrs. Norris. Snape, also in his office. McGonagall, in her living quarters. As were all the other teachers. So far, so good.  
  
Ron supposed it might have been wise to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak for his little midnight adventure, but he'd grown so tall by now that the cloak no longer covered him without him having to crouch down. Walking beneath it was highly uncomfortable for Ron, and in any case, the map was good enough to keep him out of the path of any wandering teachers or caretakers.  
  
He made his way to the painting of the bowl of fruit and tickled the pear. It gave a soft giggle, and the huge painting swung open, revealing the entrance to the kitchens.  
  
Technically, students weren't supposed to go into the kitchens, but Ron had been making regular trips down here since his fourth year. He got on well with the house elves, especially Dobby. Dobby always fell all over himself to get Ron whatever snacks he wanted.  
  
Tonight, however, the kitchens were quiet. The house elves were nowhere to be seen; they must be asleep, wherever it was they slept. Ron pulled his wand from his robe pocket and whispered "Lumos." The wand tip lit up and provided a bit of illumination in the darkened room.  
  
He was in the kitchen itself, with its many stoves and ovens. He turned to the right and made his way to the pantry, where all the goodies were kept. He wondered if maybe there was any of the custard tart left, or perhaps chocolate cake. He lowered his wand, aimed it at the door, and whispered, "Alohomora."  
  
The pantry door opened with a soft click and he went inside. He'd only been inside the pantry a few times, but it always impressed him. It was a huge space, dominated by shelves and shelves of foodstuffs and two giant, magically operated refrigerators that hummed softly. In the center of the room was a massive wooden counter, surrounded by a dozen stools, where, Ron assumed, the house elves did some of their prep work for cooking and baking.  
  
Ron headed straight for the refrigerators and opened one of them. It was full to bursting with leftover dinner. Roast chicken, roast beef, potatoes, rice, green beans, asparagus, stewed tomatoes. Ron's stomach growled again but he realized he was still in the mood for dessert. He'd always had an out-of-control sweet tooth. Another thing Hermione nagged him about--his penchant for eating three helpings of pudding at every meal. Not only was he going to rot his teeth, she said, but it just wasn't fair that he could eat like a pig and not get fat.  
  
He smiled and shut the refrigerator before moving to the next one and opening it.  
  
"Excellent," he said out loud, when his eyes fell on the shelves and shelves of puddings and desserts inside. There didn't appear to be any custard tart, but there was chocolate cake, strawberry rhubarb crumble, chocolate-cherry trifle, chocolate chip cookies and a whole platter of lemon squares. Next to the lemon squares was a huge bowl of freshly whipped cream. It all looked mouth-watering to Ron. He reached into the refrigerator and began to pile the desserts into his arms.  
  
"WHAT do you think you're doing?"  
  
Ron whirled around, nearly dropping the pile of sweets. He did manage to drop his wand. He blinked and found himself face to face with Hermione. She was wearing her light-blue fluffy cloud cotton pyjamas, light blue fluffy slippers, and a fluffy white robe. Her hair, too, was fluffy and wild. So much fluffiness. Ron loved it when she looked this way; he nearly threw down the sweets in his arms to reach for her and kiss her senseless. Then he remembered that they had rowed that morning and still had not made up.  
  
"Hermione," he said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I asked you first," she snapped, glaring at him.  
  
"I was hungry," he said defensively.  
  
"You're not supposed to be out of bed," she said.  
  
"I could say the same thing about you," said Ron, annoyed.  
  
"I'm Head Girl," said Hermione. "It's my job to do patrols."  
  
"Oh, you're doing patrols," said Ron sarcastically. "Right."  
  
"Ron, you shouldn't be in here," Hermione snapped. "You're making a mess and I know you. You'll leave it for the house elves to clean up."  
  
"Yeah, so?" said Ron petulantly. "That's their job, isn't it? And they get paid for it now, so what are you complaining about?"  
  
Ron moved to the counter in the center of the pantry and set down the plates of sweets.  
  
"That's not the point, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "The point is that you're not supposed to be down here raiding the icebox. It sets a horrible example for the other students."  
  
"All of whom are in bed and who don't know what I'm doing," Ron retorted. "Bloody hell, Hermione, can't you let me be for five minutes so I can maybe enjoy my midnight snack?"  
  
"Don't swear," said Hermione.  
  
"I'll bloody well swear if I want to," Ron snarled. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to eat some of this stuff, clean up after myself--don't look so shocked, I CAN clean up a mess--and go to bed. You can join me if you like, but if not, kindly leave me in peace. And if it makes you feel any better you can give me a detention."  
  
"Oh!" she huffed. "You're impossible!"  
  
"And you're a nag," he countered.  
  
"I am not!" she hissed.  
  
"Yes, you are," he said, "Bossy Boots." Ron pursed his lips to keep from smiling. He couldn't help it. He loved to get her riled up.  
  
"Don't call me that!" she said, stomping her foot in exasperation.  
  
"Bossy Boots," he said, smiling sweetly. "Bossy Boots, Bossy Boots, Bossy Boots."  
  
"Oh!" she huffed again. "That's it. I've had it! I'm going to bed. Good night. And you had better clean up after yourself."  
  
"I told you I would!" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Bossy Boots."  
  
"I told YOU not to call me that!" said Hermione.  
  
"Hey, if the shoe, I mean, BOOT fits..." said Ron, and he grabbed a lemon tart and took a huge bite. Yummy.  
  
"OH!" said Hermione, throwing up her hands. She went to the main pantry door and turned the knob. It didn't budge.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she groaned. She pointed her wand at it and said "Alohomora," then grabbed the door handle again and gave it a turn. It didn't budge.  
  
"What the--" she said.  
  
"What's the matter?" said Ron, through a mouthful of chocolate cake.  
  
"Ron, don't talk with your mouth full," Hermione scolded. "The stupid door is locked."  
  
"Use your wand," said Ron, swallowing the luscious chocolate cake.  
  
"I DID!" said Hermione.  
  
"Well, try again," said Ron, reaching for a spoon and dishing himself up some of the trifle.  
  
Hermione gave another of her annoyed huffs and began to perform a series of Unlocking Charms, none of which worked.  
  
"What on earth!" said Hermione angrily. "Is this some sort of trick, Ron Weasley?"  
  
"What are you on about now?"  
  
"I mean it, Ron," she snapped. "Open this door right now."  
  
"I didn't lock it!" he said angrily. He took out his wand, pointed it at the door and said firmly "Alohomora!" Nothing. He tried a few other charms but Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"What?" he said sharply.  
  
"Wonderful. Just wonderful," she said. "You know, if you hadn't gone sneaking around like this we wouldn't be stuck in here?"  
  
"Me?" said Ron. "You're the one who followed me here, missy. It's not my fault you can't stay away from me."  
  
"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" said Hermione. "I'm still mad at you, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, that must be why you were decided you just HAD to do a midnight patrol in your bloody pyjamas and come down here where you just knew I'd be," said Ron, taking a bite of trifle.  
  
"I did not!" said Hermione, affronted. "And don't swear. You're just a pig, that's all, Ron Weasley."  
  
"I am NOT a pig," said Ron. "You're just an uptight Bossy Boots."  
  
"Oh, for heaven's--GAH!!!!" Hermione yelled, and she turned and did a repeat of her litany of Unlocking Charms on the door, none of which worked.  
  
"Give it up, Hermione," said Ron, through a mouthful of his second lemon tart. "Your charms aren't working."  
  
"You could try to help me, you know," said Hermione, furiously. "But oh, wait, I forgot. You never pay attention in Charms lessons anyway, so you wouldn't know what to do."  
  
THAT pissed Ron right off. "Excuse me?" he said. "Are you saying my Charm work is rubbish?"  
  
"Well, if the SHOE FITS," she hissed, advancing on him.  
  
"Oh yeah?" said Ron angrily. "Well, at least I know how to fly a broom without falling off it every two seconds."  
  
"Oh, well, LA DEE DA!" Hermione snapped.  
  
Ron stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
"That's so mature," she said sarcastically.  
  
"You started it," said Ron. "All I wanted was to come down here and have a little midnight snack, and you ruined it."  
  
"A LITTLE midnight snack?" said Hermione. "You've eaten half the chocolate cake as it is!"  
  
"What, did you want some?" said Ron, holding up a piece of the cake.  
  
Hermione glared at him for a moment, then glanced at the cake. She couldn't resist chocolate.  
  
"No," she said.  
  
"Liar," he said. "Look, we're stuck here. Just have a piece of bloody cake, would you?"  
  
"Fine," she said. "I will."  
  
She stood next to him, took the piece of cake from him, and bit into it.  
  
"It's good," she said, when she'd swallowed the small bite she'd taken.  
  
"I'll say," said Ron. "Especially since when you're eating it you're not nagging at me. The silence is quite nice."  
  
"Oh, really?" she snapped, and before Ron could stop her, she smashed her piece of cake right in his face, coating him with gooey cake and icing.  
  
He stood stock still for a moment, unable to believe she'd done something so...completely un-Hermione like. He blinked and wiped chocolate icing from his eyes and heard her giggling.  
  
"You'll pay for that," he said, and he reached into the bowl of trifle with his hand, scooped some out and before she could get away, he smeared her face with the gooey custard and jam concoction. He stepped back and away from her and burst out laughing.  
  
"Oh!" she spluttered. "Ron!"  
  
Ron was guffawing at her trifle-covered face, when she picked up a cookie, broke it in half, and threw the pieces at him. One missed, but the other bopped him in the forehead. Hard.  
  
"Ow!" he said. "Oh, you're in trouble now, girlie."  
  
He grabbed a lemon square and threw it at her. It glanced off her cheek and landed stickily in her hair.  
  
"Dammit, Ron!" she cried, flinging pieces of the lemon square from her hair.  
  
"Hey, don't swear!" he taunted.  
  
"Oh!" she yelled, and she picked up the bowl of strawberry rhubarb crumble and advanced on him. Ron grabbed the bowl of whipped cream and a spoon, and they began to circle round the counter.  
  
"You're in it now, Ron," Hermione said, a wicked gleam in her eye. She scooped out some crumble with her hand and hurled it at him. He ducked, and the crumble splatted wetly against one of the cupboard doors.  
  
"You're making a mess, 'Mione," he said, grinning, and he scooped out some whipped cream with the spoon and flicked it at her. She jerked out of the way but a bit of it hit her on the shoulder.  
  
"So are you!" she retorted, hurling more crumble at him. This time she managed to hit him square in the chest with it.  
  
"Good aim," he said, flinging more whipped cream at her. She whirled round to avoid getting it in the face, and instead got slopped in the back of the head.  
  
"Why you--" she said, and she started to throw more crumble at him, but Ron closed the distance between. She reacted by reaching up and dumping the bowl of crumble on his head.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" he said, and he raised the bowl to dump the whipped cream on her, when he suddenly had a better idea. He put the bowl down, grabbed her, and began to tickle her mercilessly.  
  
"OH, Ron!" she gasped, struggling and squealing. "Stop, stop!" She was laughing.  
  
"Ha!" he said, tickling her relentlessly. His hands untied her robe and moved beneath her pyjama top to tickle her sides. She was shaking and weak with laughter.  
  
"I...can't...breathe...!" she gasped, laughing hysterically, as he propped her up on the counter and kept on tickling her.  
  
"Surrender!" he said, leaning over her and tickling her tummy.  
  
"N-no!" she gasped, tears running down her face as she laughed. She squirmed back on the counter and tried to get away.  
  
"Surrender!" he said again, climbing up on the counter and leaning over her. He tickled her some more. She struggled beneath him and he took her small wrists in one of his huge hands and held her wrists above her head while his other hands tickled her sides and her tummy. She flailed and their movements caused some of the bowls and plates of puddings to fall to the floor with a clang and splatter desserts everywhere. The counter itself was smeared with chocolate cake, icing, whipped cream, and cookie crumbs.  
  
"Okay!" she gasped. "You win! I give up!"  
  
"Ha!" he said again, looking down at her. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. Her pyjama top was hiked up over her waist and the smooth expanse of her slender but slightly rounded tummy was exposed. Her hair was coated with whipped cream and lemon tart and she had a face full of trifle. Her eyes were wide and beautiful and Ron suddenly realized he was on top of her and they were both panting and he was outrageously turned on.  
  
"Bloody hell," he said, and he kissed her, hard. For a split second he wondered if she would push him away. They had not technically made up from their row, after all. But she didn't push him away. She pulled him down onto her and kissed him back. Their mouths opened and their tongues pressed against one another and they kissed hotly for a good few minutes before coming up for air.  
  
"Oh...Ron..." Hermione gasped, when he moved his mouth to her neck.  
  
"I'm sorry, love," he said, devouring her neck, nibbling on her ear. "I'm...sorry I was...such a complete prat...this morning...I love you...oh, Jesus...forgive me..."  
  
His hands moved up beneath her pyjama top to capture her breasts.  
  
"Oh," she groaned. "I forgive you...Oh, god...I love you, too..."  
  
Her hands made short work of the tie on his robe, and she yanked it off him and tossed it on the floor. Then she pulled at his pyjama shirt and he lifted his arms just long enough for her to yank it over his head. That, too, wound up on the floor, landing in a pile of chocolate cake.  
  
"Wait, wait..." she said.  
  
"What?" said Ron. Oh, PLEASE don't say you want to talk about anything now, he thought.  
  
But she grabbed her wand from the counter and began to perform a bunch of Silencing Charms and Imperturbable Charms on the room. She set the wand aside.  
  
"Oh, good idea," he said.  
  
"Kiss me," she commanded.  
  
"If you insist," he said, and he did, just as hard and hot as he had done before.  
  
Ron couldn't remember ever being more aroused in his life. He licked Hermione's face clean of the trifle before moving his mouth lower. His hands tore at the buttons of her pyjama top; several of the buttons flew off as he yanked open the top, exposing her pale breasts.  
  
"Merlin," he whispered. He couldn't get enough of looking at her. Her breasts were small but so gorgeous on her. On impulse he reached over to the near-empty plate of chocolate cake and took a bit of chocolate icing on his fingers and smeared it across one breast.  
  
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, as he bent to lick it off her. "Oh...do that again...Ron..."  
  
Ron groaned and grabbed more icing and smeared it all over her upper body, licking it off her, devouring her skin; the taste of chocolate, salt and lilacs mingled and made the throbbing in his pants more acute. He reached for the bowl of whipped cream and smeared some of that on her tummy, then licked it slowly off. He slid down her body and put his feet on the floor and reached for the waistband of her pyjama pants.  
  
She lifted her hips off the counter and he slid pants off her in one swift motion.  
  
"Bloody hell," he said again, when he saw that she had no knickers on underneath. He hoisted himself up onto the counter, onto her and kissed her hungrily again, tasting the remnants of chocolate cake on her tongue, mingling with the whipped cream on his. His hand moved between her legs and his fingers moved to her hot center and found the wetness there and began to stroke.  
  
She gasped and closed her eyes and her hips arched up and she began to move against his questing fingers.  
  
His mouth moved lower again; he paused to lavish attention on her breasts as his fingers worked her down below, and then he moved his mouth lower. He put his feet back on the floor and shoved his head between her legs and let his mouth take over what his fingers were doing, and his hands moved to her breasts. She gave a little cry when she felt his tongue.  
  
"Oh...oh god...Ron...don't...stop..." she gasped.  
  
He grinned and looked up from between her legs. "I love it when you order me around."  
  
"Dammit, Ron, shut up and don't stop what you're--OH GOD!"  
  
He went back to what he was doing and within a few minutes brought her crashing into orgasm. Her little shrieks would have been loud enough to wake half the castle had she not put all those charms on the room.  
  
He let her come down from her climax but couldn't resist smearing a bit more whipped cream on the delicate skin of her inner thighs and licking that off. The whipped cream mingled with the earthy taste of her moisture and he felt his erection throb again.  
  
"Ron," she panted, and she grabbed his arms with her small hands. He hoisted himself up again on the counter, but before he could settle onto her she managed to flip him onto his back.  
  
"Your turn," she said huskily. She rubbed her damp sex against his erection, which was now tenting his pyjama pants fiercely.  
  
"Oh, god," he groaned. "You are so fucking hot..."  
  
"Don't swear," she whispered, kissing him as she rubbed herself against him some more. He groaned. He loved it when she got like this, all fiery and hot and sexy. His bookworm girlfriend, Little Miss Bossy Boots Head Girl, and she was naked and rubbing up against him and doing wicked things with her mouth and hands.  
  
She moved down his body, kissing and licking him all the while, smearing him with chocolate and whipped cream. She paused when her mouth reached his navel and her hands stroked him over the pyjama pants for a few moments before she lifted them up and tugged them down. He gasped and groaned when he felt her mouth on him.  
  
The barely functioning part of Ron's brain recalled the first time she'd done this to him; she was so damn good at it. Of course, he'd had nothing to compare it to, but still, she had known then what to do. She'd announced proudly that she'd learned how to do it from a book. Typical.  
  
The pressure and the wetness and the heat her mouth were creating was driving him mad, threatening to send him over the edge. But he didn't want to fall off the cliff yet.  
  
"Hermione..." he gasped. "Wait..."  
  
She pulled her mouth away from him and climbed back onto the counter and on top of him. She grabbed her wand again, performed a quick Contraceptive Charm, and settled herself down onto him, drawing him inside her.  
  
They both groaned and Ron nearly lost it right there; he bit his lip and fought for control.  
  
For a moment they didn't move, but then Hermione started to ride him, and he found himself matching her movements. Bloody hell, she felt so good. She was so beautiful. Her hair was a sticky mess but her whole body was flushed and her face was alive with the sensations of him inside her. He thrust into her harder, harder, but he couldn't get enough.  
  
He wrapped his arms round her waist and flipped her over onto her back and plunged inside again, driving into her with abandon. She was moaning and clutching at his back and saying "Yes, Ron, don't stop" and he had no intention of stopping and he wished he could do this forever.  
  
He saw her face contort and knew she was close, felt that he was close. He wanted to come with her, so he lifted himself up and snaked his hand between their bodies and found the hidden bundle of nerves and caressed her there. The response was immediate; she gave a long, keening cry and convulsed beneath him. The tightening of her muscles around him sent him crashing over the abyss, and his whole body shook with spasms as he released into her with a groan.  
  
For a long time they lay there and let themselves come back down to earth. Ron shifted so that his weight wasn't entirely on her and held her close. The countertop wasn't exactly comfortable, but he was so overcome with lassitude that he didn't feel much like moving. Hermione snuggled up to him and gave a contended sigh.  
  
Ron's eyes moved about the room.  
  
"We made a huge mess," he said softly.  
  
"We'll clean it up," she said.  
  
"'Mione?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I meant what I said," said Ron. "I'm really sorry about this morning. I can be such a complete arse sometimes."  
  
"I told you, you're forgiven," she said, snuggling up to him even more. Her small body fit so nicely against his long, leanly muscled one.  
  
"I love you, you know," he said, looking at her and brushing her face with his hand.  
  
"I know," she said, smiling softly. "I love you, too."  
  
They held each other in silence for a few more minutes, when Ron's back muscles began to protest against lying on the flat, hard counter.  
  
"This is getting a bit uncomfortable," he said, shifting.  
  
"You're right," she said, sitting up. She hopped off the counter and looked round the room. "Dear god, we DID make a mess."  
  
"I told you," he said, grinning, as he, too, climbed off the counter. "It was fun, though, yeah?"  
  
"It was fun," she agreed, beaming at him. "I like making up that way."  
  
"Me, too. This was by far the best midnight snack I've ever had."  
  
She giggled and picked up her wand, said "Scourgify" and the room began to clean itself. She started to point her wand at herself for the same spell but Ron, who was gazing her appreciatively (because she was still very naked), stopped her.  
  
"What do you say we go back to your room and clean up there?" he said, pulling her to him. He was already standing at attention again. "Assuming we ever get out of here, that is."  
  
"You're incorrigible," she said. "Although I suppose I COULD do with a shower."  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Ron and Hermione jumped at the sound of a third voice and Hermione gave a squeak.  
  
"Are you two done in there yet?" said the voice. Ron and Hermione stared at one another.  
  
"Harry?" they both said. They heard the doorknob of the pantry start to turn. Hermione gave a yelp and threw on her sticky, pudding covered pyjamas; Ron managed to yank up his pants.  
  
The door suddenly swung open, and for a moment they saw nothing, but then suddenly an Invisibility Cloak was swept away, revealing Harry Potter.  
  
"Hi," he said, grinning. "I was beginning to think I'd never get in."  
  
"Harry?" said Hermione. "You--you were outside the door...the whole time?"  
  
"Yup," he said, grinning. "You two look like you've had some fun."  
  
"What did you hear?" she said, looking aghast.  
  
"Not much, once you put those charms on everything," said Harry. "Thank god. But at least my Locking Charm worked."  
  
"Wait a minute," said Ron. "YOU locked us in here?" He picked up his pyjama shirt and robe and wand.  
  
"Harry, that's completely underhanded!" said Hermione indignantly.  
  
"Oh, stop complaining," said Harry, rolling his eyes and pushing past them. "You two made up, didn't you? Is there any chocolate cake left?"  
  
"We ate it all," said Ron. "I can't believe you locked us in."  
  
"Ron," said Harry. "Are you happier now that you've made up with Hermione or not?"  
  
"Of course I'm happy that I've made up with Hermione!" said Ron. "That's not the point--"  
  
"It is the point," said Harry, folding his arms across his chest. He gazed pointedly first at Ron, then Hermione.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked at each other sheepishly.  
  
"I...suppose you have a point," Hermione conceded.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron.  
  
"Well," said Hermione. "I think I'm going to turn in."  
  
"Me, too," said Ron.  
  
"Don't stay up too long, Harry," Hermione admonished, taking Ron's hand firmly in his and steering him out the door of the pantry. Harry, meanwhile, headed for the refrigerators.  
  
The two of them crossed the kitchen to the back entrance of the painting.  
  
"I can't believe he did that," said Hermione.  
  
"I can," said Ron. "And he's right. We did make up."  
  
"True," said Hermione, and a smile came over her face. "And we made up in quite a lovely way."  
  
"You've still got whipped cream in your hair, you know," he said, pulling her close.  
  
"Maybe you could get it out for me in the shower," she said. "You could wash my hair, and my back."  
  
"Cool," he said, grinning. "Whatever you say, Bossy Boots."  
  
She moved to swat him and he pulled her into a hot kiss and she sighed into his mouth and they kissed for a while. Then Hermione broke the kiss and they pushed through the painting that lead back into the corridor and made a mad dash for her rooms.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the pantry, Harry put a plate of brownies on the counter and started to munch on one when a red-headed, female figure in pyjamas and a robe slipped into the room.  
  
"It's about time they left," said Ginny. "I'm starving."  
  
"Have a brownie," said Harry.  
  
"Excellent," said Ginny, and she headed over to the plate of brownies. She took a bite of one and sighed. "Fantastic."  
  
"You're fantastic," said Harry, putting his brownie down and pulling her close.  
  
"Am I?" said Ginny, and she took a bit of icing in her finger and smeared it on his neck, then slowly licked it off. "Let me just lock the door." She did.  
  
"Get over here," Harry said, pulling her close again and crushing his mouth against hers.  
  
By the next morning nobody could explain how the refrigerator full of pastries and puddings had gone from being overstuffed to being completely empty.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: Yes, this story it utterly pointless! But I just had to write it. And allow me to give credit to Shezzly for the whole Ron Swears and Hermione Corrects Him bit. 


End file.
